It was a sunny afternoon in the pediatrician's office, a happy day where children and adults alike would feel joy all around, laughter would spread through the office and spill out into the streets. Or, on most days, that was the case. As the young boy sat in the bright, colorful room with the older male doctor, a dark presence plagued the innocence of the doctor's office, just beneath the surface, but if you looked close enough…it was sat right there, literally. The shiny new plastic, the round face, the bright red hair, the freckled face, the adorable blue eyes. A permanent smile was fixed onto its face, portraying a sense of playfulness. But as the child anxiously waited, craving sweet, yet savory candy after his visit, there was another craving present in the room…that doll's emotions were even more fake than the plastic its body was wrapped in. And much like the boy, it was tired of waiting to be satisfied.
As the doctor let the boy and his mother go, and sat down to drink his third mug of coffee that day, the doll turned its head. The sixty-year-old pediatrician had barely noticed, focused on his drink, as it always brought him comfort and joy, dating back to stressful periods of his life from a young age. Funnily enough…the doll could relate, and it was about to finally show it. With a small tap on the ground, the doctor looked up from his position, twirling his mustache as he noticed the doll was missing. It was strange, but maybe he'd simply imagined it was there only moments prior. He looked back down, pulling open a drawer and taking out a clipboard to set his paperwork down on, clicking a pen and beginning to write on it. As he became engrossed in his work, he failed to notice another tap. Another tap. And yet another tap. Finally, something slammed against his desk, and caused it to shake. His coffee spilled all over the papers.
"Goddammit… what the fuck was that!?" he growled in annoyance, sighing quickly afterward. "Shit, gotta get something to clean this up now. Fuck me."
The old man shook his head, standing up from his seat and looking around his office, finding clean, dry rags, wetting them to prepare to wipe off his desk. "Fucking–" as he turned around, his heart skipped a beat as he flinched. He noticed the doll was standing right in front of him. Not sitting. Standing. And to make things stranger, it looked like it was staring right back at him. That joyous smile hiding its true intentions, the eyes fixated on the real 'toy' in this situation.
"...Jesus." he whispered, before telling himself, "It's just a doll, calm down."
He took in a deep breath and sat back down, before placing his elbow down on the desk and holding his pen up in his hand. He had to call for replacement papers, he knew that, but for right now, he just felt like sitting back and relaxing. Maybe taking a nap, even. After all, his next patient wasn't supposed to come in for another two hours, he could afford a bit of rest. Especially with how cranky he'd been that day. "Man, getting kinda fuckin' sick of this job…"
At that moment… "Jeez, doc." …another voice spoke. It startled him yet again, as he looked up and flinched. The doll's position had changed. And now he was sure it was staring at him. "You say 'fuck' more than I do!" the doll laughed at him, the man's eyes widening, as his heart began racing. What the hell did he put in his coffee!?
"Wh- what? What the-"
It began moving. No. No. He had to be imagining it. He was going delirious for sure.
"Man, the shock never gets old!" the doll exclaimed, the smile curving into a devilish grin. "When people see me movin' around, right before I stab them…it's priceless. You should try it sometime-if you haven't already. Ya might like it."
"What the fuck!?" the doctor screamed.
"Woah, watch the fucking language! What would little Timmy think?"
"You're a doll…"
"Yeah, but…" the doll stepped around the office, pacing around in circles. "I ain't the type to abide by the laws of nature, exactly, y'know what I mean? But anyway, I gotta tell ya something….I am really….tired."
"...What?" the doctor was confused. A doll? Tired? Then again… a doll? TALKING? MOVING!?
"Not sleepy, mind you. I ain't an ancient artifact, I'm actually quite new! I just mean I'm tired of the ones that keep gettin' away," the doll looked down with an uncanny expression of sadness. "The ones who I can never seem to just…stick the knife in. Finish the fucking job. You can relate, can't ya? And y'know…we deal with a similar demographic. Annoying, dumb as a brick, and always managing to evade your grasp before you can just…end 'em! Take this one kid I knew, for instance. Or, still know, but he ain't really a kid anymore. I failed to kill him at six years old, I failed to kill him at eight years old, I couldn't even kill him at SIXTEEN years old…I just can't get my hands on him for long enough before his mom, or stepsister, or some other blonde lady helps him out of it! It's so fuckin' HUMILIATING!"
"What are you even talking about!?" the doctor questioned, agitated, not wanting to believe what his eyes were showing him...but maybe he had to accept this reality.
"Uh…murder, duh. I ain't spelled it out for you yet?"
"But…you're a–"
"A doll. Yeah yeah, I fucking know, I've seen my own body before! Sheesh! –Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah…this kid–or man now, I guess, has gotten on my nerves, for the last FUCKING time! And y'know, I was feeling a bit bored, so I decided to come here about a week ago, and I've been watching ya, right here in this office. But I think, like a limited edition Good Guy sale, time has run out, doc."
"A-Are you gonna kill me?" the older doctor stuttered, fear striking his fast-beating, fragile, old heart.
"What? No! Why would I do that?" the doll mocked. "Of course I am, dumbass!"
The doctor got up to run to the door. "I wouldn't do that if I were you. Which is worse, getting stabbed to death, OR being declared insane because you thought you saw a fucking DOLL threatening to kill you? Having to spend the rest of your life in a mental ward, because of a DOLL? Hahaha! I know which one I'd choose, then again...I can't exactly die. So…comparison's a bit unfair. But, my point stands."
He walked back slowly, watching the doll as it stayed in place. The doctor nearly fell into the wall beside him, but barely managed to catch himself on his desk. He still couldn't believe this was happening. Was this some kind of punishment? Was he meant to suffer for whatever he'd done? At least he was standing tall. There was some comfort in being above the toddler-sized doll, looking down on it like an ant. He wasn't anything special, right? He could kick that little fucker. He could smash him into bits of broken plastic on the ground.
"I gotta love the confidence in your eyes, doc." the doll chuckled. "The amount of times I've seen that same look…I wouldn't go for what you're probably about to try and pull, but–"
The old man ran forward, as fast as his weak legs could carry him, but was stopped before he reached the doll, a sharp pain jabbing into his knee, as he let out a yelp and fell to the ground with a thud. "Did I not just say- How'd you even get a PhD with shit for brains?"
Moments later, a knock was heard on the door. The doll sharply turned its head.
"Doctor Samuels, is everything alright in there?" a voice said from the other side.
The doctor opened his mouth to scream, but found himself silenced by a small, plastic hand.
"Nuh-uh." the doll smiled at him, now sat directly on him, a violent smile carved across its face, its eyes carrying no empathy, only vicious intent, a large kitchen knife in its tiny plastic hand. "Now doc, any last words to your newest and last friend til the end?"
It lowered its ear to the doctor, who muffled out some strange vulgar sentence. The doll responded with laughter. "Good one. No fucking idea what you said, though. Oh, and before you go…one last thing."
The knocks came back. "Doctor?" the voice said, now concerned, as the killer doll looked back at the door for a moment, before turning back to the pediatrician.
"I ain't just called 'doll'. That'd be fucking stupid. The name...is Chucky."
It raised the knife, as the doctor's life flashed before his eyes.
A stab. Blood. A muffled scream.
Another stab. More blood. Another muffled scream.
And yet another stab. Blood covering his chest. The screams were slowing down, the old man's fragile will being broken easier than a ruler.
Another.
ANOTHER.
ANOTHER!
A-FUCKING-NOTHER!
AND ANOTHER! AND ANOTHER! AND ANOTHER! ONE FUCKING MORE! ONE. FUCKING. MORE.
And suddenly…it was over, quicker than it had started. The doll sat on the desk, as the woman behind the concerned voice came in, horrified at what she saw. A mangled, sliced up corpse, covered in what was practically gallons of his own blood. Chucky's cute smile returned, cleared of any and all guilt. After all…something so harmless, so innocent, could never do anything wrong, let alone murder…right?
